The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

Rachel walked in, accompanied by a foreign man.

The moment they entered, the crowd closed in around them.

"Oh my God, isn't that Mr. Harry, the man everyone's calling the heir to Mr. Walden?"

"Harry? You mean the violin prodigy who stunned the world at just five years old?"

"Aaah! Harry is my idol! He's only thirty-five and already has such an incredible career. By the time he reaches Mr. Walden's age, he'll be every bit as legendary!"

"If Rachel's teamed up with him, what chance do the rest of us have? He's in a completely different league."

Someone in the crowd couldn't help but gloat. "Well, it looks like Stella is about to be put in her place!"

Everyone turned to stare at Stella, their eyes filled with gleeful anticipation, as though waiting for a show to begin.

From the first round of the competition, Stella had held first place, undefeated.

Even the fiasco with Felipa last time hadn't dented her reputation; if anything, it only brought her more attention and admiration.

Stella wasn't just rewriting history in the competition-her commercial value was beginning to rival that of a top celebrity.

Naturally, the lesser-known contestants, starved for the spotlight, were eaten alive by jealousy.

They all secretly hoped to see Stella finally lose.

Maybe, if she suffered a crushing defeat, she'd collapse under the pressure and fade away like a shooting star.

The man standing beside Rachel looked about thirty-five, with a head of natural golden curls.

He was tall, imposing, and carried himself with an unmistakable air of arrogance.

His gaze was cool and superior, as though he saw everyone around him as beneath him.

Rachel leaned in and whispered, "Harry, over there-that's Stella and Antoney." Harry glanced in Stella's direction.

He saw a young woman he didn't recognize and quickly looked away, uninterested.

But when he spotted Antoney, he let out a dismissive snort.

"Well, well, look who it is. My old whipping boy."

Antoney's fists clenched instinctively.

Both were violinists, and Antoney had run into Harry at international competitions many times.

Every single time, Harry had defeated him-utterly, ruthlessly.

Antoney was honest enough to admit he wasn't at Harry's level.

He was a prodigy; Harry was a prodigy among prodigies.

There's always someone better out there, and Antoney could accept that.

What was impossible to accept was Harry's utter disdain for everyone else—his arrogance, his contempt.

No matter who stood across from him, Harry made a sport of mocking his opponents, never sparing anyone's feelings.

"People like you," Harry sneered,

"should really give up the violin.

You're a disgrace

everywhere." Content

"So weak. Pathetic, really. After twenty years of practice, and this is all you've got?"

"Today, you're up against me. Do yourself a favor and withdraw-you'll only embarrass yourself."

"Hard With for

sn't make me laugh.

'talent, you could practicnoveldrama

nored years and y

years and you'd still be

near my leveret

nowhere near my level."

"Find another line of work. The violin just isn't for you."

"If I'd practiced my whole life and still played like that, I wouldn't have the nerve to

show my face in public."

Losing a competition was already hard enough, but Harry's cruel taunts were devastating for many violinists.

Some never recovered from his ridicule.

Quite a few actually gave up playing for good.

Some, tragically, went even further.

Antoney himself had nearly given because of Harry's cruelty, but

somehow, he managed to puel.ne

himself together and keep going.